Pablo Neruda

1904–1973

Ode to My Socks

Maru Mori brought me

a pair

of socks

knitted with her own

shepherd’s hands,

two socks soft

as rabbits.

I slipped

my feet into them

as if

into

jewel cases

woven

with threads of

dusk

and sheep’s wool

Audacious socks,

my feet became

two woolen

fish,

two long sharks

of lapis blue

shot

with a golden thread,

two mammoth blackbirds,

two cannons,

thus honored

were

my feet

by

these

celestial

socks.

They were

so beautiful

that for the first time

my feet seemed

unacceptable to me,

two tired old

fire fighters

not worthy

of the woven

fire

of those luminous

socks.

Nonetheless,

I resisted

the strong temptation

to save them

the way schoolboys

bottle

fireflies,

the way scholars

hoard

sacred documents.

I resisted

the wild impulse

to place them in a cage

of gold

and daily feed them

birdseed

and rosy melon flesh.

Like explorers who in the forest

surrender a rare

and tender deer

to the spit

and eat it

with remorse,

I stuck out my feet

and pulled on

the

handsome

socks,

and then my shoes.

So this is

the moral of my ode:

twice beautiful

is beauty

and what is good is doubly

good

when it is a case of two

woolen socks

in wintertime.

Translated from the Spanish by Margaret Sayers Peden.